


a candle, burning

by rainny_days



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Chronic Pain, Cooking, Coping, Domestic, Established Relationship, Future Character Death, M/M, Post-Canon, coming to grips with the inevitable continuation of time, implied - Freeform, my version of a 'happy' ending, taking care of each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:07:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23045263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainny_days/pseuds/rainny_days
Summary: Tim used to joke - back when he still joked, when there were still things to joke about - that he looked forward to the day that Jon would finally look his age.Today, as Martin gently shakes Jon awake, kissing the creases along his brow, brushing his hand through pale white hair, he knows he never will.A day, in a not-quite happily ever after.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 13
Kudos: 163





	a candle, burning

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hard Living](https://archiveofourown.org/works/595704) by [metisket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/metisket/pseuds/metisket). 



> *pokes head back into fandom a month before s5 drops* hey, want some angst?

Tim used to joke - back when he still joked, when there were still things to joke about - that he looked forward to the day that Jon would finally look his age.

Today, as Martin gently shakes Jon awake, kissing the creases along his brow, brushing his hand through pale white hair, he knows he never will.

_-_

_A candle burning at both ends_ , he’d thought of it as, when Jon had told him his theory the first time, after stumbling and falling and breaking his arm far more easily than any man his age should’ve. The scars of the Archivist were far deeper than any of them had anticipated, and the powers that Jon had used to save them - to save the world - had more consequences than even he had known.

A last, cruel joke by Jonah, kept hidden even after his death.

Martin had never quite forgiven himself for not noticing, though not even Jon had thought anything of it when the rest of his hair had started turning brittle and grey. They had joked about it, even, that Jon would be mistaken for his grandfather at this rate, that they would be approached for one of those silly television shows - the ones Martin loves and Jon tolerates - about couples with incredible age gaps.

Then Martin found him crumpled at the base of their stairs. Then Martin carried him to the hospital, arms shaking but voice steady as he speaks, the back of his mind thinking about how convenient it was to have hospitals again. Then the doctor frowning when Jon tells him his age, asking if he can take some tests. Then-

Then-

Then-

-

‘How is he?’ Daisy asks, when they meet up for tea. Martin shrugs a little, still not quite comfortable leaving Jon alone, even after weeks of him insisting that he was _fine, Martin, you can’t spend your entire life looking after me_.

(Martin wanted to reply _I can, I can, I’ve had enough practice,_ but he knows that Jon wouldn’t appreciate that sentiment, however sincere Martin is about it)

‘His blood pressure was okay this morning,’ Martin intones, easy with long practice. ‘He seemed- as well as he can be, all considered. A little shakier than normal, but I have lunch in the fridge, so he won’t be able to cut himself on anything, at least.’

Daisy snorts. ‘That’s not- whatever this is,’ she says dryly. ‘That’s just Jon.’

Martin laughs a little, forcing himself to push his worry into the back of his mind. It’s terribly familiar, this countdown in the back of his mind. The only difference is, of course, everything else.

‘Do you think he’d be up for a visit?’ Daisy is asking, and Martin thinks for a bit before nodding.

‘I think he’d like that,’ he says. ‘He hasn’t really been able to go anywhere too far, and I’m sure he misses seeing everyone in person.’

Daisy hums. ‘I’ll tell Basira, we can probably swing by on a weekend.’

She hugs him when they part ways, and it’s mostly strange how familiar the touch has become.

-

Martin’s routine contains him shaking Jon awake, more often than not. He’s found ways to find joy in it, discovering every way he can bring Jon into the world with a gentle touch, a whispered word, once, a crown of flowers in his hair.

Today he just kisses the corner of his lips, taking some comfort in the soft exhale of air he feels against his cheek. Jon smiles a little as his eyes blink open, and Martin smiles back, helpless, and wonders as always at the fact that Jon has more laugh than frown lines creasing the edges of his lips.

‘Did it go alright?’ Jon asks, the way he does every time, as if he still expects Martin and Daisy to be at each other’s throats.

‘Yeah,’ Martin replies, as he always does. ‘Daisy says that she and Basira might come over this weekend, if that’s alright.’

‘Of course,’ Jon says, sounding pleased. He accepts Martin’s hand as he stands, his other going to his cane as they walk slowly back into their home.

Martin gently sits Jon down at their kitchen counter, opening the fridge. ‘What are we having for dinner tonight?’

‘I was thinking lasagna, if you’re not opposed.’

‘Obviously not, Jon, when have I ever been?’

‘Well, there was that one time-’

‘- I _told_ you I don’t like cilantro, Jon, it’s a pretty common sentiment!’

Jon laughs a little, trailing into a cough at the end. Martin carefully does not rush over, knowing that Jon, even now, is deeply uncomfortable with being treated as fragile. When Jon gets his breath back, there is a glass of water in front of him, Martin carefully still looking in the fridge, and Jon’s voice is grateful as he begins to direct Martin to the right ingredients.

Martin will never consider himself a cook, in any real sense of the word, but Jon is, surprisingly or unsurprisingly, a picky eater, and a surprisingly knowledgeable chef. It had been a blow to him, when his hands had finally grown too frail to be trusted with a kitchen knife, and Martin had scrambled helplessly for a solution before Georgie had brought up the way she and Jon used to cook together.

Nowadays, Jon still reigns in their small kitchen, though in a purely instructional sense. It’s comforting to the both of them, this small fiction of teaching Martin how to cook. Martin thinks it’s not even a lie, really - he suspects sometimes, that Jon is preparing him, in some ways. Trying to make sure Martin has a world outside of Jon. It’s a quiet suspicion, one that Martin doesn’t think too deeply on, because he isn’t sure how he’ll react when he allows himself to absorb it.

For now, Jon laughs when he spills tomato sauce over his shirt, and they argue lightly about the necessity of homemade lasagna noodles, and he shelves the revelation for another day.

-

It had taken Martin what felt like eons to convince Jon - stubborn, stupid Jon - to start actually using a cane. It had taken him even longer to concede to moving their bedroom to the first floor. These are memories that make Martin smile, now, because he has learned to take his happinesses where he can, and Jon’s grouchy, cat-like expressions are a genuine delight to him.

They go to bed early, these days. It is as much a luxury as it is a necessity, and neither of them have forgotten the feel of ashpalt beneath their backs enough to not feel grateful for the luxury of mattresses yet.

‘Atwood?’ Jon asks, as Martin closes the curtains. Martin hums in agreement as he curls into bed, taking off his glasses and allowing Jon be become a blur in front of him. It doesn’t bother him, not seeing Jon. His voice is as dear as his visage, as deeply familiar as any defining facial feature.

He hears the soft rustle of pages as Jon flips open a book and begins to read. ‘ _You forced me to give you poisonous gifts; I can put this no other way…’_

This is not quite a happy ending, Martin understands. But there is the voice of the one he loves in his ear, for now, and his warmth beside him, for as long as he can stay. 

That is enough for today.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the ending of once upon a time in space, by the mechanisms, and hard living, by metisket
> 
> hmu at [tumblr](https://tweetsongs.tumblr.com/)


End file.
